


Taking Care of a Sick Supersoldier

by Dynamicoverride



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky thinks he's dying, Common Cold, F/M, Sick Character, Sick Supersoldier, he's really not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:27:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,486
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21759811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dynamicoverride/pseuds/Dynamicoverride
Summary: Short drabble of OC having to take care of a sick Bucky.Written using the dialogue prompt“Sorry, I have a clingy and feverish assassin on my lap. I’ll call you back when I’ve convinced him that a cold doesn’t mean he’s dying.”
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Character(s), James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 30





	Taking Care of a Sick Supersoldier

You look at the clock hanging in the common room and sigh. It’s 7:15am and Bucky was supposed to meet you here 15 minutes ago to go for a run. It’s not like him to be late and you start to worry.

Steve and Sam look antsy to get going. “You guys go ahead, I’ll check on Bucky and we’ll catch up.” You’re not as keen on going for a run as they are, so you welcome the chance to put it off. Steve nods to you and leaves with Sam. “Friday, where’s Sargent Barnes?” You ask.

Friday replies with no hesitation. “Sargent Barnes is in his quarters.”

“Really?” You huff. “Thanks Friday.” You wonder what would be holding him up like this. He never sleeps in so it can’t be that. It’s one of the things you hate about making plans with him. You love to get a bit of extra sleep and he’s up at the ass crack of dawn every day.

You knock lightly when you get to his door and wait. When you get no response, you knock a little harder and call out his name. The door opens with no one on the other side, you figure he must’ve told Friday to open the door.

“Bucky?” You don’t see him when you step into his apartment. A moaning sound comes from the back of the apartment. You stop in your tracks when you hear it, wondering if he’s doing what you think he’s doing. As you debate on if you should leave or not, you hear it again. This time it’s clear that it’s a painful moan and not a pleasurable one. Your imagination goes into high gear, thinking up all the ways he could be hurt. Damn your anxiety. Tears sting your eyes as you blink them back. It was a bumpy road for you both to admit you had feelings for each other, and you’ll be damned if you’re going to let anything stand in the way of destroying that.

You follow the sound to his closed bedroom door. “Bucky? It’s me. I’m coming in.” You start to slowly open the door, now knowing what to expect. Images of Bucky injured fill your head as you peak into the room.

Bucky is in bed and wrapped up in a cocoon of blankets. His hair is wild and uncombed, and kinda adorable you have to admit. His nose is red, and he’s surrounded by tissues. He tries to greet you but instead sneezes into a tissue he’s holding. Relief washes over you when you realize he’s just sick. You start to sit on the bed and Bucky tries to shoo you away, muttering something about death. You tilt your head to the side and question what he’s saying.

“You shouldn’t be here doll. There’s something wrong and I’m dying. Get Bruce and tell him to bring a hazmat suit.” Bucky manages to get out between sneezes.

Looking at him, you don’t believe he’s dying for a second. “Friday, what is Bucky’s temperature?” Having had to take care of sick siblings when you were younger, you’ve had plenty experience with the common cold and the flu.

“Sargent Barnes temperature is currently 100.7 degrees Fahrenheit.”

“Still within totally normal parameters Sargent.” You giggle. “It looks like you just have a cold.”

“But I ache everywhere, my throat and head are killing me, and I can’t stop sneezing.” If he wasn’t sick, you’d laugh at the sneeze that punctuated the end of his sentence.

Grabbing the garbage can in the corner of the room, you start to gather up all the used tissues. “That’s what a cold is. Have you never had a cold?”

“Not since I was a kid, and that was like 70 years ago.”

“Well lucky for you I’m here to take care of you. And I’m not leaving until you’re better.” You boop his nose and watch as he wrinkles his nose and tries to hide under his blankets. “I’m going to see what kind of supplies you have, I’ll be in the kitchen.”

Flipping through cupboards makes you realize that Bucky keeps almost no food in his place. You text Steve to let him know that Bucky is just sick with a cold. Before you can ask, Steve offers to pick up some soup and medicine on his way back. Grabbing a glass of water, you head back to check on your patient.

He hasn’t moved from his blanket cocoon and you can see sweat forming on his forehead. “You should probably get rid of a couple blankets, you’re starting to sweat.” You set the water on his nightstand and sit down next to him.

Bucky rolls towards you and lays his head on your lap, grunting in defiance. You play with his hair and sigh, picking not to fight this battle just yet. “Come on soldier, let’s at least get you sitting up. If you insist on sweating up a storm, you’re going to need to stay hydrated.”

You giggle as you watch him try to sit up while staying cocooned. It takes him a few fails before he loosens the blanket and uses his arms to bring himself up to the pillow you have resting on the headboard for him.

“S’not funny.” He grumbles when you hand him a glass of water.

“It is a little. Steve and Sam are going to pick up some soup and medicine for you on their way back to the tower. You have absolutely nothing in your cupboards.”

“You didn’t tell them about this did you?” Bucky groans. He knows that if Steve and Sam know how he’s handling being sick, they’ll never let him live it down.

“Don’t worry. I didn’t tell them that you think you’re dying.” You say, setting the empty glass back on the nightstand.

“Correction. I am dying.” He looks like he’s about to keep talking when he’s hit by a sneezing fit. “I don’t know how someone can feel like this and not be dying.”

You snuggle up next to him on the bed and Bucky instantly rests his head in the crook of your neck. Aside from the occasional cough and sneeze, you both sit in silence until you hear a knock on the door. Bucky whines a little as you slide out of his grip and excuse yourself to get up and answer the door. You’re greeted by Steve holding four grocery bags. You give him an update on Bucky (omitting the part about his supposed impending death) and thank Steve for the favour.

While unpacking the bags, you notice that Steve went a little overboard. There’s three different kinds of chicken noodle soup, two types of crackers, 4 cartons of orange juice and a small handful of different medicines in both liquid and pill form. At least you aren’t the only one worried about Bucky. Knowing that he hasn’t eaten yet, you pour a can of soup into a pot and start to heat it up. You grab a fresh glass and pour some orange juice into it and bring it to the bedroom while you wait for the soup.

Bucky’s shivering a bit when you walk into the room and set down the glass. “Friday, raise room temperature to 20 degrees Celsius.” It only takes a minute before you can feel the room get warmer. “I brought you some juice and I’m making you some soup. I’m sure you haven’t eaten yet today.”

“I just wanna lay next to you and sleep. Can we do that?”

“Of course, I just want to make sure you eat something first. It doesn’t have to be a lot.” Bucky nods and you grab the empty water glass from earlier and leave to check on the soup.

It’s only another couple of minutes when you’re ladling the soup into a bowl. You set the bowl, a spoon and some cold medication on a tray table and head back into the bedroom.

“Careful, it’s still hot.” You say, setting the tray on the bed in front of him.

About 15 minutes later, you’re bringing the tray back to the kitchen with a half empty bowl of soup on it. Back in the bedroom, you get under a couple of blankets and sit next to Bucky. In response, he scoots down the bed and lays down, using your lap as a pillow. He mutters a muffled thank you as he gets comfortable. You play with his hair as he quickly falls asleep.

You watch TV quietly while your sick boyfriend sleeps on your lap. Once in a while he’ll twitch and make some groaning noises. Knowing those particular sounds mean he’s dreaming, you talk to him and try to soothe him without waking him. You’re not sure if it’s the start of a nightmare, but if you can do anything to maybe prevent it from happening, you will. You softly ask Friday what Bucky’s temperature is and she’s happy to report that it’s down to 99.9 degrees.

After a few hours, you hear your phone vibrating on the nightstand next to you. It’s Tony asking if you can come to his workshop to help him with something. You sigh, this is something that you’ve been wanting to work with Tony on for a while and he hasn’t had the time for it until now.

“Damnit, I can’t Tony. I currently have a clingy and feverish assassin on my lap. I’ll have to get back to you when I’ve been able to convince him that a cold doesn’t mean he’s dying.” Bucky wraps his arms around your waist and hugs you and you wonder if he heard you.

You can hear Tony chuckle and wish you luck before the line goes dead. As you’re setting your phone down, you hear Bucky mumble. “I’m not clingy, I’m dying.”

“The way you’re wrapped around me says otherwise.” Bucky responds by rolling on his back and you can see the sweat pouring off his face and neck. “And a cold doesn’t mean you’re dying.”

Bucky refuses to give up his argument. “Not a cold, it’s the plague.”

“In that case we should get you cleaned up for the burial. I’m going to run you a bath.” You give up on arguing for now and get off the bed.

You start the water and make sure the temperature is scalding just the way Bucky likes. You grab a couple towels from the closet and can hear movement in the bedroom. Once the tub is filled and the water is off, you head back to the bedroom and find Bucky sitting on the edge of the bed with a blanket around his shoulders.

“Here. Let’s get you wrapped up in a robe and into the tub.” You find his robe hanging on the back of his door and replace the blanket with it.

He’s a little sore from not moving around all day and you help him shuffle into the bathroom. The bathroom is so warm it’s almost suffocating. You hang Bucky’s robe on the door and warn him the bath is really hot as he undresses. You can see his muscles relax as he slides into the tub and leans back. Picking up the clothes on the floor, you start to bring them into the bedroom to toss in the hamper.

Bucky notices you leaving the room without saying anything. “Where are you going?”

“I’m just going to put these in the hamper. Did you need anything?” You say, turning to look at him as you speak.

You can see Bucky look a little anxious as he responds. “You didn’t say anything before you started leaving, I thought you were annoyed having to take care of me.”

“Baby no.” You drop the clothes and sit on the edge of the tub. “How can I be annoyed at you for being sick? While I don’t like seeing you sick, I feel good that I can take care of you the way you always take care of me.” You brush away the hair stuck to his forehead so you can see his whole face.

Bucky takes his hand out of the water and holds your hand. “But a man is supposed to take care of his best girl. Even if he’s dying.” A grin creeps onto his face as he gauges your reaction.

“One, you’re not dying.” You sigh. “Two, you do take care of me, more than I think I deserve. It’s only fair that I get to take care of you whenever I can.”

You feel Bucky squeezing your hand tightly. “You deserve the world doll.”

“And I have it. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be than here with you.” You say, returning the squeeze. “I couldn’t ask for a better man than you.”

Bucky leans back into the tub again but doesn’t let go of you. After a minute, you break the silence. “Is it ok if I wash your hair?”

“Only if you want to.” He sits up but still doesn’t let go of your hand.

“I do. I love it when you wash mine for me and I want to return the favour.” You slip out of Bucky’s grasp and stand to take down the handheld shower head from the wall. Quickly wetting his hair, you turn off the water and reach for the shampoo. Bucky closes his eyes so he can focus on the way you’re massaging his scalp. You spend more time shampooing his hair than it needs, but you love the small moans you hear when massaging the right spot. After a few minutes, you turn the water back on and rinse his hair, being careful not to get soap in his eyes. Bucky thanks you as you’re putting the shower head away. You suggest he relax for a bit longer while you go make him some soup for when he gets out.

When the soup is almost ready, you head back into the bathroom to check on Bucky. He’s in the same position you left him in, laying back with his eyes shut. You smile seeing him so relaxed, you’re going to have to remember to get his temperature when he’s been out of the tub for a bit. His eyes open at the sound of you entering the room and he matches your smile. Letting him know the soup is almost ready, you help him out of the tub and grab his robe as he dries off.

“Feeling any better?” You ask as you make sure he’s bundled up in his robe.

“A lot better. I’m still really sore and can’t breathe through my nose though. But I think I just might pull through.” He laughs at the death stare you give him for his joke.

“It’s amazing what can happen when you have your best girl taking care of you isn’t it?” You wrap your arm around his waist as you walk into the living room.

“It really is.” Bucky wraps his arm around your shoulders and starts leading you to the couch. “I think I’ll eat out here. It’s less stuffy.”

“Whatever you want. I’ll go grab you some soup and juice.” You disappear into the kitchen for a few minutes before returning with medicine, a bowl of soup and glass of juice for Bucky. After setting it down on the coffee table, you run back and get your food and sit next to him on the couch. You notice that he’s looking less pale and take that as a good sign.

You take a spoonful of soup and immediately put it back down. “Oh, before I forget. Friday, what’s Bucky’s temperature?”

“Sargent Barnes’ temperature is 98.8 degrees Fahrenheit.” Friday responds.

“Is that good?” Bucky asks.

You look at him and can’t tell if he’s joking or not. He’s not smirking, so you assume he’s serious. “It is. 98.8 is back to normal. You’re going to live!” You throw yourself at Bucky and hug him, causing him to drop his spoon on the coffee table.

Unfortunately, your outburst had the side effect of causing Bucky to go into a coughing fit. You spend a couple minutes rubbing his back and apologizing while he catches his breath again. He assures you that he’s fine and you both continue eating and watching TV.

Once the dishes are cleared, Bucky says he’s going to head to the bedroom so he can stretch out and get some sleep. You follow him and make sure he’s comfortable before sitting on the bed and propping yourself up with pillows. Bucky’s bundled him self up with so many blankets again, you almost miss him talking to you.

“I don’t know how to thank you doll. No one has ever taken care of me like this.” Between the blankets, pillows and his face nuzzling your arm, you’re impressed that you were able to understand him.

“You don’t need to thank me baby. Believe it or not, I enjoy taking care of you.” You feel him wrap his arms around your waist and you run your fingers through his hair.

It takes about 10 minutes before you can see Bucky’s breath even out and hear him start to slowly snore. Your anxiety starts to melt away as you watch him sleep. It was possibly the flu this morning and if this is how he handled a cold, the flu would’ve been 10 times worse. Now that his fever is gone, he should be back to normal either tomorrow or the next day.

You glance at your phone and notice it’s evening, but still not quite late enough to go to bed yet. Making sure your phone is on silent, you decide to play some games and get some reading done until you’re tired. You want to get the kitchen cleaned up, but it doesn’t look like Bucky is going to let go of you anytime soon.

It’s a few hours before you decide to get some sleep. As you expected, Bucky is still wrapped around your waist. Not that you mind, it’s true that he does a lot for you and you’ll do anything you can to return the favour. You put your phone on the nightstand with a soft alarm set for 8am. You try to shimmy down the bed so you can lay down, but Bucky just grips you tighter.

_“Sleeping sitting up for one night won’t be so bad.”_ You think to yourself. At least you’re already propped up with enough pillows to be comfortable. You wrap an arm around Bucky as best you can and fall asleep within minutes.

Sleeping propped up is a big deal apparently and you get one of the worst night’s sleep in your life. You woke up multiple times in the middle of the night because of a cramp coming from a leg or arm and sometimes your back. But from you were able to see, Bucky slept the whole night.

Your alarm goes off at 8am and you quickly silence it as to not wake up Bucky. Turning to look at him, you notice right away that he seems to have all the colour back in his face. You touch his face and hair and are happy to find them dry with no layer of sweat like yesterday. But you won’t be sure until you ask him how he’s feeling. You watch him sleep for a while before he starts to wake up.

Bucky starts to move around and come alive for the day. “Good morning baby.”

He opens his eyes and nuzzles your waist with his nose. “Morning Angel.”

You smile knowing that nickname is only for you. He’s called other women doll back in the day and now, but you’re the only one he’s called angel.

“It looks like you have all the colour back in your face. How are you feeling?”

“I feel great. A little sore from not moving much yesterday, but that’s it.” He sits up and stretches. He sees you move and wince a little. “Are you ok? Did you hurt yourself?”

“I’m fine. I just slept sitting up and I’m stiff and sore from it.” You say, waving off his concern. “I have to get up and clean up the kitchen anyways. I didn’t get a chance to do it last night.” You’re pulled back onto the bed as you try to get up.

“Oh no you don’t. That can wait, I’ll run you a hot bath and give you a massage until you feel better.” Bucky knows that it’s his fault you slept sitting up and gives you the look he knows you can’t say no to.

You giggle as Bucky pulls you into his arms. “You’re not going to be happy unless you’re taking care of me, aren’t you?”

Bucky smiles and kisses you gently. “Nope”


End file.
